Where the Heart Is
by Elfsire
Summary: Ariadne returns back home after the war, hoping to escape Rome and her past. However, how long can she outrun it?  In this none of the knights have died
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Arthur!"

The cry rang out across the courtyard of the fort. Everyone stopped what they were doing at the sound of that, and the king himself spun round at the sound of the familiar voice. He had a few seconds before a figure flew at him, embracing him around the waist. Laughing he embraced the woman, before holding her a few feet away from him, with a look of mock consternation written across his face, although a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Ariadne, I thought you had orders to send a letter and to wait for me at the coast."

"I could have waited, but what then would be the point of the surprise?"

"You could have been hurt."

"I thought the great King Arthur had brought peace to all Britain."

"Cousin, you are… incorrigible."

"Glad that you noticed. But I'm home now."

Arthur sighed as he looked down at the woman next to him. He still had one arm slung over her shoulder, and Ariadne had twined one around his waist. It had been a little over three years since Arthur had last seen his cousin, and he thought that for the first time in a while she looked truly happy. She had gained weight which had been sadly lacking, and now looked like she should.

"I'm home now. If it's not all forgotten now, it's over with." Ariadne answered solemnly after a few seconds, guessing Arthur's thoughts.

"If I could have spared you…"

"I know. But it's over now, and done with. Let me bury the past and make a future of my choosing. It's why I came back."

"Arthur!"

Ariadne looked up to see a dark haired woman standing at the entrance to the villa, regarding her and Arthur and their embrace with narrowed eyes. Arthur left his cousin and walked across to the woman. When he reached her the king reached down and embraced and kissed this woman, Ariadne knew in that instant that the woman was Arthur's wife and his queen.

"Guinevere, this is my cousin Ariadne."

"The pleasure is all mine."

Guinevere watched as Ariadne walked across the courtyard, before curtseying to the queen, as she felt was right and proper. But when the woman came up and her eyes met Guinevere's she was shocked by the look of mistrust that was still there. The queen did not even acknowledge the curtsey, and a sort of puzzlement came over Ariadne's face.

"Any cousin of Arthur's is welcome here," Guinevere's tone seemed rehearsed, and lacking warmth, but seemed to please Arthur, "I will leave you and my husband."

Ariadne's frown tarried as the queen left the courtyard. Her frown did not last long, as she saw that Arthur had noticed that something was amiss, and a frown had appeared on his face. Seeing that he seemed tired Ariadne linked her arm through her cousin's and drew him away, trying as she had when they were younger, to remove at least some of the burden from Arthur's shoulders.

"Now, where are the brave knights? Its past time for a reunion," Ariadne firmly declared.

"Speaking of knights…" Arthur answered with a smile.

Ariadne turned to regard the group that was currently entering the villa. They were all laughing and at their ease, obviously having come in from the training yard. For a moment tear's misted in her eyes as she saw things how they had been all that time ago. But things had changed, the men had aged, and there were so much fewer than they had been. Arthur had written and told her of each death, but still, there had been a sense of unreality about it all. Until now, when faced with the cold hard truth of it all.

"There you are Arthur!" One of the knights exclaimed, "We were looking for you."

"So then, when do we leave for the coast?" Another called out.

"I'm afraid we won't," Arthur smiled over the collective groan, "My cousin decided to arrive here unexpectedly."

At that moment everyone looked at Ariadne, standing shyly to one side. She was unsure after ten years separation what exactly her welcome would be. In a few moments she realised that she had nothing to fear, as she was swept up in a torrent of excitement, as the knights all gathered around and she was soon surrounded, with exclamations on how she had grown, and most of all how long it had been.

Ariadne felt all of her shyness melt aside in a few instants. She knew all these men, or had known them, and it seemed that she still did. None of them seemed to have changed that much in the years away. They had grown, and fulfilled the potential that they were beginning to reach when she had left. It brought tears to her eyes to be so embraced and welcomed again. It had been so long since she had been welcomed in such a way! It warmed her heart, and made her gladder than ever that she had made the trip, the awkwardness with Guinevere forgotten completely.

"It's been so long!" Galahad exclaimed.

"And my haven't you grown!" Ariadne teased back as she embraced the youngest knight.

"You've filled out girl!" Bors enveloped her in a crushing hug.

And so on it went, each a whirlwind of embraces, kisses on the cheeks and welcomes, each as unique as the knights themselves. Lancelot, of course, chose to mention her beauty, but Ariadne chose to swat him away playfully, but not before noticing a darkness that she'd never seen before. Dagonet and Tristan both mumbled a welcome, the former embracing her more warmly than the latter. Then again, an embrace from Tristan was more than she ever would have expected. Gawain muttered something about how well she looked.

Eventually, after all the greetings were finished Ariadne was drawn away by Arthur, who noticed that his cousin was looking tired, and perhaps a little overwhelmed by the warmth of her reception. The king gently drew her along to the room she had been allotted to live in. She had come at his request, to help run the fort, Guinevere having little or no experience. Ariadne was happy to comply, she was a widow now, and had nothing to hold her to Rome anymore.

She had only moved there because of her mother, Arthur reminisced with a grim look. His mother's younger sister had been married to a Greek trader, rather than the Roman general her sister had married. Ariadne's mother had not been happy with her lot in life, and took her frustrations out on her daughter, the product of that marriage. After her husband died Ariadne's mother had not wasted time in remarrying a Roman, who was far in station above her, but in need of the money Ariadne's mother could provide.

What resulted was a loveless marriage for Ariadne to contend with, and an exile from what she considered home for ten long years. Arthur had visited as often as he could, and Ariadne herself had tried to put the best face she could on her situation, but Arthur could tell she was desperately homesick, as well as trapped. It had gotten worse when her husband lost all his money, but in the last few years they had gained some sort of happiness living on a large farm in the countryside. But still, it had not been home for Ariadne, who had begged Arthur to find some reason for her to return.

"How is your mother?" Arthur enquired lightly.

"Absolutely disgusted with me. She cannot understand why I would leave Italy for Britain, let alone to do something as menial as work. I told her that it was nothing to what I had been doing on the farm, and that I would have a place at court, but she wouldn't listen."

"I'm sorry Ariadne…"

"For what? That my mother is selfish and hankers after a way of life which is slowly dying out? I half worry that she'll come after me and appear at court."

"Now that would be a horror!"

"Thank you for taking me in Arthur, I cannot think what I would have done if you hadn't."

"You will always have a place here in my court. Now, I shall leave you to settle in, and I shall send someone to fetch you for dinner tonight."

"Thank you Arthur."

Ariadne closed the door behind her and sighed heavily. Arthur was right, she was tired from her journey, and needed time to adjust to her new settings. Things had shifted since she was last in the fort, and she needed time to absorb them. Not least the sudden hostility of Guinevere. Ariadne had no understanding of the queen would react that way to someone she had never met.

At least the knights seemed as welcoming as they had when she was younger. She had regularly written letters to Arthur and the knights, and Arthur had written back detailing the life at the fort, and visited whenever he was in Rome, so she had always been kept abreast of news. Those letters and visits had often made her homesick, and long to be back in Britain. And now she was it was going to take some time to adjust. Ariadne wasn't used to having what she wanted from life, and that she had taken it had scared her a little.

Instead she flung open one of the chests that had already been taken to her rooms on Arthur's orders. She ran her hands over the warm soft wools, in the richest dyes. Her grandfather had taken over the business, and always made sure that she was adequately clothed if nothing else. Hence the other chests filled with dresses made of the finest silk, along with bolts of more silk, as gifts for the women and others she knew at the fort.

She pulled out a red wool dress that she planned on wearing that evening. She had been told that although she was early, there would be some form of formal meal. Ariadne sighed to herself, she hadn't wanted a formal meal, she'd wanted a close one for friends and family. However, according to Arthur she was going to be working at the fort, and everyone deserved to know who she was, and besides she was family.

For the moment though, she had other things on her mind. She had seen the graveyard as she came in, and decided to go and explore, to see some of the knights who had died in the years she was away. There were so many names, all beloved brothers of the others: Percival, Bedevere, Kay, Lamorack, Gareth and Geraint, the twin brothers of Gawain. Those last two were perhaps the most mourned, as Ariadne had often gotten into scrapes with the three brothers when she was younger, they had been her best friends among the knights.

For a moment Ariadne considered seeking Gawain out, and asking him to take her to see the graves of his brothers. She didn't though, it would seem that she would be dragging up painful memories, and decided to leave it best alone. So she found herself wandering through the graveyards pausing only briefly at her uncle's graveside.

Eventually she found the twin's graveside. She recognised their armour, so identical, but for their colouring. Geraint had enjoyed display, and had squandered all of his pay on a beautiful set of blue steel armour, his brother settling for the simple steel. She sat down in front of them, tears blurring her eyes as for a moment she saw them as they had been in life. And then they were gone, and it was only the cold hillside.

Ariadne poured her heart out to her old friends, telling them all the things that had happened to her over the years, everything. Even the things she had kept hidden from Arthur. Like that her husband had preferred boys to his wife, and thus she had grown to womanhood in a house where her looks were neither celebrated nor welcomed. Indeed, it seemed as she grew that her husband's animosity grew, unable to deal with her, a woman instead of a coltish girl. Indeed Ariadne had often suspected that was why she was accepted, but her curves were less welcome.

It had humiliated her. She had endured seven long years of that torture, with her husband's various lovers, who paid little or no attention to her, and when they did it was most unwelcome. That was before her husband lost all his lands and wealth. Luckily, having learnt something of her father's business Ariadne was able to salvage enough for her to buy a large farm in the countryside.

Moving there she had met Marius, who was her husband's last lover in the three years before his death. Marius had become almost a father figure to the woman who was struggling to find her place. It was Marius who taught the woman to accept her husband for what he was, and taught her husband that his wife was something to be cherished, a person with a mind of their own. A friendship of a kind had grown, although Ariadne had been unable to get back to her home, the thing that she most wanted.

It felt good to talk about it all, although there was no one to hear. She could almost imagine the pair there, Gareth would sit next to her with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, comforting her as he always had done. Geraint would storm and promise vengeance on all who had hurt her, until the tears dried and she would laugh. And Gawain, would be torn, whether to follow his gentler brother, or help swear vengeance. She often wondered why the older boys paid her any mind.

"You were a friend of mine, and my brothers were nothing if not protective. And after a while you fitted in with the other knights." Ariadne looked up to see Gawain standing over her.

"I didn't think anyone would know where I was," Ariadne took the proffered hand and stood, dusting off her skirts.

"I knew you'd visit them."

"It's been a long time. How did you know?"

"I doubted from your letters you'd changed that much. Any of us would have done the same to you."

Ariadne stood for a few moments, simply looking at Gawain. He had grown, and now stood at least a head taller than her. He had grown a beard as well, however his hair was still the same dirty blonde, and hung untidily down past his shoulders. It seemed that there was a gap of years in between them, and Ariadne wondered just how much of her conversation had been overheard, desperately wanting a veil drawn over the past.

"Arthur was worried that you'd run off to avoid the feast."

"As long as there are no boring Roman dignitaries to entertain, I'm sure I'll manage to put in an appearance."

Ariadne and Gawain had set off back towards the fort, and she watched the knight's expression flinch as she mentioned it. Of course Gawain would probably take completely the wrong inference from her words. Yes, she had entertained extensively in Rome, at least at the beginning, but how to tell him she was referring to their childhoods, when she would sneak out and mess up her hair and her dress yet again, and would never even attempt to be the perfect girl when presented by her mother.

"I'm sure Britain will seem dull by comparison."

"Oh that's what I meant. I don't care about Rome, I never did. I was happier on my farm in the countryside. But I chose to come here, to come home. I wanted to be here, please believe me."

Ariadne was rewarded by that awkward speech as Gawain turned to her and smiled, the first true smile she had been graced with since she had returned. The knight playfully slung an arm around her shoulder, and she settled in against his side. For a moment again she could almost imagine another of the three brothers walking on the other side, arm slung across her shoulders as well, all talking and laughing.

The pain brought her up short, and brought unshed tears to her eyes. Gawain looked back in understanding as she dashed the tears away from her eyes. As they set off at a more sedate pace as she collected herself Ariadne slipped her arm through Gawain's, unwilling to completely to relinquish the contact. She wanted something to remind her of a happier time before she had been pulled away from home, before they had all grown up, and some of them died.

Disclaimer: I only own Ariadne for the moment, and will probably be introducing more characters later, but not right now.

Author's note: I do apologise for all of the readers of my other fanfics. It's been a long time since I updated something, let alone started something new. Here's hoping this new one gets my writer's block unblocked, and I can get on with some of my other stories.

I can only say that I hope you enjoy, and stay with me on this journey.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ariadne swiped her curls almost viciously out of her face. It was an unseasonably warm spring day, and everyone in the fort was taking time to enjoy the spring sunshine. Which still did not explain why Ariadne herself had been left behind that morning, her hair tied back with a rag, from which her hair was even now escaping, wearing an old dress she was considering consigning to the rubbish heap, with a broom and an army of servants around her.

"One month… One whole month," Ariadne muttered to herself as she carried on sweeping, "As if I didn't already have enough problems…"

Ariadne had long ago come to the conclusion that Guinevere had no idea of how to run a castle, not surprising given her background. What had galled was that at no point had the queen attempted to appoint a steward or other servant to take over the running of the castle. Things had been running luckily there were enough competent people around, although the job or trying to of co-ordinate it into a running castle had given Ariadne a headache.

One which had receded in time as the woman had begun gently, but nonetheless with authority, to make her mark on the castle. Anyone with any problems had been directed to her door, instead of straight to Arthur's, leaving him mainly to the normal run of petitioners at any court. Which was a headache for Ariadne, and she wondered if she looked quite as harassed as Arthur always seemed to be.

However, now Ariadne was facing a completely different challenge, in the form of helping cleaning the knight's quarters in the castle. Apparently Lancelot had been refusing anyone entry to his room since Badon Hill, and very little laundry was collected. Add to that the knight seemed to spend more evenings in his cups than out of it, and the room was filthy.

This morning Ariadne had flown into a temper, ordering the knights to throw Lancelot into a bath, after first heaving a cold pail of water over his head. Then, she and some of the other cleaners had set about making the room presentable. It had taken a while, and was almost done. Really Ariadne's presence had been more of a hindrance than a help, but her being there was the only way she could have persuaded the cleaners to go anywhere near the room. She had never cleaned a room, even when she and her husband had fallen on hard times, and she had to admit, at first it had been a novelty.

Now though her hands had begun to blister and she was tired. She didn't understand how these women managed it, working so hard for so long. They had all been friendly towards her, chivvying her gently, almost as if she were new. Although she didn't feel new, she felt much older than her twenty five years at this moment in time. She was sure she looked nothing like the poised Roman lady she seemed to outwardly project.

Without knowing it Ariadne had just risen a notch in the servants' estimation. She didn't have quite the natural empathy Arthur seemed to, but it seemed to stem from her ability to blur the class lines. She could treat even the lowliest servant with concern, and listened to her pleas as she would the mistress of the laundries. Ariadne had, however, shown a hard-headedness to certain problems, and an ability to simply get stuck in.

"I think we're finished here for the day now milady," Jennet, the eldest cleaner in the castle commented.

"I do not know how you keep this up day after day," Ariadne admitted, picking up a bucket that had been discarded, and following the others towards the kitchen.

"It gets easier after a time. You sound like one of the new girls we get in."

"How many of them last?"

"More than you think. There isn't much honest work girls can get round here, and it can be hard."

"I can imagine. Do you think we'll be able to find anyone willing to clean Lancelot's rooms?"

"I'm sure, if not I'll have to do it myself. I can't expect you to appear every week to help us."

"I don't think I could manage it once a week. I'll make a deal, I'll go back to my books, and you keep up the hard work."

"You didn't do so bad, for someone not used to the work."

"I'm not sure that my hands agree with you."

Ariadne had no more time to answer, as the small army of maids had reached the kitchens, and begun depositing their equipment. They all fell about gathering up something for lunch, chattering and happy. And for the first time in her life Ariadne felt alone. She wasn't part of these girl's lives, not really, and somewhere along the way she'd lost… well something.

The cook informed her, helpfully, that food had already been sent up to her room, along with hot water for a bath. Ariadne smiled politely, she had had manners beaten into her at some point along the road, before making the weary trudge up to her rooms, avoiding most other people who would stare, and then carry the message back to Guinevere.

It was only in the bath that Ariadne let some of her tears flow. She had thought that coming back here she wouldn't suffer the soul destroying loneliness that she had experienced in her marriage. Oh yes, there was the work, there had always been more work. Work enough to keep the loneliness at bay. It was something that Ariadne had promised herself wouldn't happen here.

She was among family here, wasn't she? She was among friends. Apart from the fact these very same family and friends had far more responsibilities it seemed than talking to someone who'd been away for ten years. To be fair to them, that probably wasn't the case; they were just as busy as everyone else, setting up the fledgling country. And also, wasn't it the case that everyone met for dinner, and it was not their fault that Ariadne was generally too tired to do more than just eat, before staggering off to her bed.

After bathing, Ariadne sat at her desk, munching on some hard cheese and bread. She picked the piece of parchment that had been set down on her desk that morning. It had been rolled, tied with a forest green ribbon, and with her name carefully scribed. Rolling it out, it brought a warming smile to her face as she saw the careful hand which had scrawled across the expensive parchment a letter.

_Ariadne_

_The farm is coming along well. All of the spring planting has been completed on time. Marcus is beginning to become very efficient at running the farm and the villa. Perhaps it may be best if we try and find him a position elsewhere; perhaps you could take him on as your apprentice._

_Lucilla has taken up her weaving with a vengeance. I am thinking that we will be able to clothe all the other children from her efforts. Her baby thrives, although seems to be sadly abandoned at times. I am wondering what you wish to be done about this._

_The other children are all well, and thriving. They seem to be enthused about the picture that you painted for them, and so far the country life has not lost its appeal. They do ask after you, and wonder when you will next come to visit._

_Iseult_

Ariadne smiled as she put the letter back down on her desk. The children, Lucilla and Iseult, the Irish princess who'd been sold into slavery. Ariadne had slowly collected them over the years, and they had become a substitute family for the one at the wall. The woman had taken over their education, and essentially stood in their stead as parents.

However, instead of bringing them to court she had sent them to the farm she had purchased, barely a half day's ride away from the fort. It had been her father's land, but had been sold. She had purchased it back cheaply years ago, due to its proximity to the wall no one had wanted to purchase it. Ariadne had sent her small family there, and had begun to regret her decision.

The letter said very little about its writer. Iseult was a fiery character, with bright red hair, and green eyes, one who was generally taciturn. She had learnt to write alongside the children, struggling away. She had taken it upon herself to inform Ariadne about everything that was happening on the farm. She was not the most natural of writers, but as the unofficial second in command of the group, she felt it was her job, not anyone else's.

And now there was the slight problem of Marcus. The roman orphan had been almost adopted by Ariadne after he was found stealing in one of her storerooms. After he had worked out that Ariadne was not going to hurt him, and provide him with food and clothing if he were to work for her. The boy was intensely loyal to whom he considered to be his mistress now. Ariadne also suspected somewhere deeply buried was the soul of a trader, if only she could find it.

In that moment Iseult's suggestion that Ariadne find the boy other employment seemed, perhaps as her apprentice seemed to strike a chord. She needed help, if only for a few years while the castle was settling down into its new patterns. After that she was sure she could twist Arthur's arm to find him a position elsewhere, but still somewhere where she could keep an eye on him.

Ariadne knew she would have to ask Arthur for an escort, but wondered realistically how soon she could be gone. If she wished to, she would leave this very instant, she suddenly wanted to see everyone, and see how the children were getting on. It didn't matter that it had only been a month; she wanted to see them desperately.

She was tired, overworked and felt one hundred instead of twenty five. Everyone had always used to look at her like she was old, past it. And she had been for a while. She had made a snap decision, come back home, and she had felt like she was a girl again. Apart from the fact that everything had changed, so she was back to feeling like she was one hundred again. So why she thought that going back to her father's old farm would help she didn't know. But she just felt it would.

Author's note: Okay, this chapter was rather hard to write. Hence why it's so short. I just wonder if people could take a few moments to drop me a quick review? If you don't like something, please let me know, and I can rectify it.


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